


The Love Bug

by CupidUsesCurare



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Anal Fingering, Cock & Ball Torture, Crack, Dom Hermione Granger, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Magical Disease, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pegging, Praise Kink, Puppy Play, Roleplay, Rope Bondage, Shameless Smut, Shibari, Sick Tom Riddle, Smut, Sub Tom Riddle, idk where this is going but i hope y’all enjoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26414863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupidUsesCurare/pseuds/CupidUsesCurare
Summary: Voldemort was gone, without a trace, at the height of the Second Wizarding War. Fifteen years later, Hermione was lying on her sofa, alone in her London flat with a book and a hot cocoa.Then Tom Riddle Jr. fell through time and space...into her bathroom, ailed by a never-heard-before magical disease.So, having nothing better to do, she fucks him.(Canon until Deathly Hallows, which doesn’t happen)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 14
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

Voldemort was gone, without a trace, at the height of the Second Wizarding War.

Not a single Death Eater knew where he was after the Battle of Hogwarts, when Headmaster Dumbledore lost his life. So, Hermione Granger, along with the rest of the Wizarding World, was baffled beyond measure. In the following months of hunting down both Death Eater deserters and tracking rogues still loyal to the ideals of their missing Dark Lord, Hermione, Harry, and Ron contributed to the capture and imprisonment of 90% of the total estimated rogue Death Eaters. 

Some theorized that Voldemort had gone away yet again to attain ancient magic that once belonged to the Mesopotamians. 

Some were urgent for normalcy, and preferred to call it the Nearly- or Half-War, or the Wizarding Conflict of 1997 instead.

And after nearly a decade of constant vigilance spearheaded by then-Head Auror Alastor Moody, the people eventually chose to solemnly cover their scars, do away with the trauma, and move on with everyday life. Ron was tired of fearing a dormant threat, and Harry wanted to start a family with Ginny, so they were the first of the Trio to leave the investigation. Hermione stuck with the gradually shrinking investigation team for another four years, grappling with a similarly shrinking budget, before closing the cold case herself in October of 2012, after a solid 15 years or so.

She needed a new life, when she was watching Harry, Ginny, and Ron send their children away to Hogwarts. James Sirius was catching up to her height already.

It happened December 1st, 2012, when Hermione was lying on her sofa, alone in her London flat with a book and a hot cocoa. 

Voldemort fell through time and space...into her bathroom.

The inter-dimensional magic that brought him there knocked him out cold, so when Hermione rushed to investigate the thuds and clanging with her wand ready for anything, she was graced with a defenseless black-haired man entangled in her now-broken rubber-ducky print shower curtain with a few bones broken by the rim of the tub, which was now cracked. 

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t snap a picture first. Or twenty more...for evidence and documentation of course. 

There was no way it wasn’t him. She had all of his school photographs, files, all of her colleagues’ investigation notes that they had to leave behind...it’s gotta be.

“Haaah...”

“Hahahaha! Fifteen fucking years of my life I wasted looking for you...and the moment I decide to shove you to a corner for good, you…!” She steps over his body and jabs her wand at his unmoving face.

“You! You fucking bastard, you stole half of my life! I can’t believe this...what a fucking attention-whore!” 

She took a moment to laugh her guts out at the marvellous joke the universe played upon her, before she remembered that she had a bleeding human body-...well...bleeding dark lord body that no one’s seen for years.

Fuck. He’s injured.

Double fuck. The world isn’t ready.

Holy flying fuck, what the fuck does she do?

Running through all the scenarios of how someone can disappear for years and reappear suddenly (without a wand, markings, or an artifact like a time-turner no less) with the aid of the darkest and lightest magic she could possibly think of, her mind drew a blank.

Nothing could explain it.

Nothing should explain it.

Nothing, other than the fact that it had just happened.

And he’s hot.

Erasing that last comment from her mind by drawing out that pesky silvery memory from her temple and banishing it, she quickly weighed her options. 

Does she:

A.) Finish the deed that the universe sent to her like a rubber ducky wrapped Christmas present.

B.) Do the humane thing. Heal him and string him up so that she can torture him just for fu-…for fundamental research on how he seemed to have time travelled as his younger self. And then kill him.

She’s feeling quite sadistic, so Option B it was. Muttering vital-sign spells, bone-mending spells, flesh-growing incantations, and searching the flat for her stash of Blood-Replenishing Potions, she got to work. After her 2-hour onsite first aid and determining that his condition was stable, it was time to clean up the bloody mess he left behind.

By the time she was done, her watch showed it was 2:47 pm. What kind of dark lord picks a bright sunny noon in December to finally show up? And thanks to that, she missed her weekly lunch appointment with Ginny.

“Hey, I just met you and this is crazy~”

Speak of the devil.

Strolling into the living room to get her phone, she was met with a wide-eyed and whimpering sight.

“But here's my number, so call me maybe!”

“You! Make it stop! Make it stop right now!”

He was cowering into the cushion sofa, bare legs and chest showing as the blanket she haphazardly draped over his manly bits slipped away as he kicked and squirmed to get away from the ringing cell phone on the coffee table. She thanked her foresight for handcuffing his hands behind his back and binding his knees with black bungee cord, which she took a second to admire her knotted handiwork.

“And all the other boys-“

It was a glorious sight. So glorious in fact, that Hermione forgot about her Auror training and froze for half a second, a shit-eating grin twisted her mouth wide open, and the most delightful guffaw shot from her throat.

He continued yelling and fighting his binds.

“Filthy Mudblood, filthy magic! That obnoxious demon-summoning incantation has no effect, in my presence even the darkest of beasts tremble with...what are you…”

Wheezing, Hermione summoned her video camera and hit record. “Oh this is precious!”

“You dare to laugh at me?! I have never set eyes on a single soul so foolishly intent to die. Do not point that...that...that Muggle rubbish at me. Cease, at once!”

“You can’t seriously believe I’ll actually do any of that, right?”

He scoffed, all high-and-mighty. “Of course not, that’s why I’ve Imperioused...why aren’t...”

Hermione only raised an eyebrow.

“What...? My wand! My magic! What have you done with it, filthy-“

“Tch, for fuck’s sake…” Hermione tsked and Silence’d him, shutting off the video camera.

“Ahh...such an improvement. Oh, it’s still ringing, give me a moment….Hey, what’s up Ginny? I know I know, I never miss a lunch but I had...well, I have an emergency um...at um, work…? I’m really sorry Gin, but I can’t talk right now, don’t know how long it’ll be before I...um...take care of it. Yeah, I know, I should've quit months ago. I gotta go, say hi to Harry and the kids for me, love you too Gin! Mwah!”

Turning to her surprise houseguest and looking him in the eye with her wand jutting into his carotid artery, she spoke low and firm.

“Listen up, you little dipshit. I know you know who the fuck I am, so start not getting on my bad side by throwing slurs like a four-year-old. Use my fucking name, Thomas.”

His dark eyes got darker.

“Not so funny now is it, Thomas Marvolo Riddle Jr? It’s time someone taught you what discipline means.”

Her eyes were the darkest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione placed him in a Full-Body Bind curse. While she did heal all of his injuries, she didn’t touch the palm-sized bruises mottling his back and arms, just to make him hurt...

But it’s not enough.

She took off her zipper sweatshirt and tank top and transfigured them into a red ball gag and black blindfold. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes widened at the sight of her black bra, to which she magicked the blindfold on with a snort.

She Levicorpus’d his bound and naked body to the bare wooden floor, stomach-down, and stepped on his back, grinding her socked heel where his heart would’ve been if he had one. She zapped a Stinging hex at his left perky asscheek.

She made sure the video camera was getting all the good close-ups from scandalous angles.

He jolted and flopped like a speared fish.

“This is for the days I spent hunting for you while the rest of the world abandoned their posts.”

She grabbed his hair backwards, and at his protesting yet silent shout, shoved the ball gag inside and removed her silencing charm to enjoy the music of his pain.

“Hnnngh! Unnngh...nhh...nhh…nuhhh...nhh...”

Still holding his gagged and blinded head, she whispered, “You’re so perfect for this. How does it feel to be beneath the feet of something you despise oh so much? Beneath my feet?”

When she received no reply, only a low, guttural growl, she dug her fingernails into his head and shoved it into the floorboards.

“OUGHHH! Hnnngh...! Nhh...nghhh!”

“This mutt still needs some training, it seems.”

She stepped both feet onto his back and sent three more Stinging hexes on the same spot as the first. Though he squirmed and jerked, muscles rippling as he moved, Hermione was a surfer riding a wave.

“Unnngh! Uhn...uhn...uhn...Uuungh, hnnngh….”

She waited for the redness to bloom and the initial pain to recede into a throbbing ache, indicated by the audible mewling in his labored breathing. Drool dribbled delectably down his chin. His hair has seen better days. Wrists and legs are showing red welts from his struggle against her pain.

She sent another, more powerful hex, this one on the unblemished asscheek.

She summoned two hanks of brown hemp rope. Leaving one floating and unravelling the other, she got off of her surfboard and Levicorpus’d the mutt upright into a kneel.

Unlike what Hermione expected, his face, once paler than snow, was welling up with adorable pastel pinks. Sweat dripped from his forehead into his blindfold and glistened just above his cupid’s bow on the philtrum. Saliva flowed out of the corners of his lips around the ball gag. His neck was flushed, too, heaving chest showing redness from the skin-on-wood friction. 

Bight in her hand, she was about to reach out and tie him up by hand before deciding against it.

Too personal.

She needs to keep her distance this time, no matter how drunk she is on dominating his body. She also had the recording to worry about. 

She charmed the rope, guiding it to chafe his skin as it slithered up and around his body. She moved to his side so she could see the bight end up in the middle of his back. Levitating the rest of the rope, she fed it through the bight, and neatly wrapped it around his body the other way, pulling the whole thing taut beneath his pectorals. Leaving a bit of rope, she wrapped it three times around the top of his pectorals, knotting it in the back, before finishing the chest harness off with a pentagram shape that she took extra care to vibrate while the rope was near his nipples. At the pleasant sensation, his back arched and a badly concealed moan escaped his throat.

“Ngh-hnnnngh…!”

“What? Go ahead, make as much noise as you want. It’s just the two of us anyway.”

He didn’t answer.

She swished her wrist, vanishing his handcuffs to bind his arms together.

He lunged blindly at her.

Hermione stumbled backwards, hitting the top of her head on the edge of a coffee table. His height, speed, and furious countenance frightened her. His hands grabbed for her throat and squeezed, but no sooner than the moment he touched her skin, searing pain shot up his arms. 

“AAAH! AAAAAAAAH!”

Despite the pain, his hands were still squeezing around her throat. His agonized face was mere inches from hers and she smiled at his efforts. 

“You...agh! ...were waiting for this...all this time...weren’t you?”

She raised a hand and brought it to his face in a gentle caress, but all he felt was even more pain. His grip relaxed.

“AH! Agghhhh!”

“See how...easily I can push you away.” She raised her bare foot over his sternum and launched his body, crashing into the floor. He scrambled away from her and pressed his back against the wall, knocking over a pile of books in the process, clutching at his aching chest.

She was in the mood for sarcasm. “You thought I’d let you try any funny business? I don’t know what consent looked like back in your time, but this is the 21st century.”

His confusion was evident, even under his blindfold, by the tilt of his head. 

Hermione grinned. “This is my flat, I signed every legal document necessary to show that I own it and everything inside it. Here, if I feel like it, I could revoke your privilege of touching the floor. Or breathing, even. Trying to find a countercurse, are you? No such thing. This is a handy little something-something that I invented a few years back while looking for you. The magic is quite dark, actually. Never thought I’d be using it on you, of all the people who have ever lived.”

Hermione felt her neck for any bruising, then her head for any blood. Finding none, letting out a sigh of relief, she got up and Levicorpus’d him into a kneel again. She unravelled the second hank of rope and hung it from the first, onto the downward-pointing tip of the pentagram. She made several knots vertically, putting one just above the dark patch of curls framing his penis. He jerked his crotch away, but the strong Levicorpus forced him back. She brought up the rest of the rope from under his crotch. She also made another knot to sit just inside the middle of his ass crack.

He yelped at the unfamiliar sensation.

With the rest of the rope, she tied his arms together, wrist to elbow. Splitting the rope in the front into a diamond-shape, she took the ends of the rope through the middle of all her previous knots. When splitting the rope near his crotch, she tugged the harness unexpectedly and he mewled in response to the knot in his ass crack pressing closer to his prostate. Ass and crotch outlined with the rope like a thong, she finished up with two knots on each outer side of his thighs.

Hermione knelt in front of her work of art. She gently touched his nose, and he flinched backwards, expecting more pain. When none came, he let her trace her fingers around his face. Her fingers travelled lower, to his jawline and neck, then trailed over the ropes she bound him with.

“Beautiful. So beautiful...finally, I have you.”

She coaxed him backwards with a push, and laid him down gently, her body between his bent legs.

She laid herself on top of him, languidly staring, the back of her hand brushing the soft insides of his thighs.

His breathing slowed.

Her head was on his stomach, listening to their combined inhales and exhales in her quiet, lonely flat. Her book from hours ago collecting dust on the askew coffee table. The blanket she haphazardly placed over him fell off the couch long ago. Her phone was nowhere to be seen, video camera still floating and recording the best parts.

She thought of Ginny, Harry, and Ron. Their laughter rang in the Great Hall. Her beloved books, the only warm welcome she received into the magical world. She thought of the first half of her life in Hogwarts, when every day was a blessing to be alive and every tomorrow was filled with unknown dangers. Anguish dulled by time. Then the second half, coffee stains on meaningless reports, cloth-marks on her face from sleeping in her office at the rotten Ministry.

She was Ginny’s and Lavender Brown’s maid of honor...or was she a bridesmaid? She couldn’t remember a single detail. She was already tipsy from elf wine and champagne before she unwisely Apparated to the venue. Going sober to her best friend’s wedding without a plus one was pathetic. Going tipsy was even moreso.

Turning her head a bit, she pressed her mouth to a spot just above his belly button.

Forget. She wanted to forget it all.

She licked and sucked on his skin, planting soft kisses wherever she went.

She didn’t have a job lined up.

Kiss. Lick. 

She’s been living off of coffee and firewhiskey for the last two years.

Suck.

She’s been alone since Crookshanks died, five years ago.

Lick. Bite.

He grunted, flexing his stomach. She kissed and sucked on the same spot until she felt his muscles relax. Her lips descended below his belly button, following the faint trail of hair to his nether region. Her hand caressed his thigh harder. The junction of her neck and chest brushed the tip of his penis. His breathing hitched.

Just before she reached her destination, she pulled her mouth away.

He shuddered.

Her left hand took one side of the rope framing his cock and she tugged a rhythm, like tugging a fishing pole to entice a bite, while her right stroked higher and higher, brushing the underside of his balls.

He jerked his hips forward, his cock rose. She released the rope to push him down to the floor again. 

She focused instead on his perineum, cupping and lifting up his nutsack while stroking her thumb up and down.

“Hey, Tommy, have you ever had your ass fingered?”

“Nnngh, nnmghh!” He mumbled, alarm rising in his voice.

“Shhh...shut up. I was just wondering if you were an ass virgin. Not that you can do anything to stop me, anyway.”

“Nnngh!”

She had to use Levicorpus again to immobilize him.

“Don’t worry your pretty face like that, it’ll get stuck that way. If you relax yourself, it’ll feel reaaaal good.”

She summoned a bottle of lube and a glove for her fingers. She put the glove on, took a healthy dollop of lube, and rimmed his puckered ring of muscle.

“Mnngh…! Mnngh…”

“Hey. What did I say about relaxing? I know, it’s a little cold, but I could also make it hurt if you don’t cooperate. Just picture...well, whatever gets you relaxed, and it’ll start feeling good.”

Her index finger pushed against the center, slowly entering inside him. Her other fingers worked to relax his entrance even more as her second finger joint entered his ass. Her left hand stroked the inside of his thigh and perineum again. Her index finger curled a bit, pressing upwards, and rotating clockwise to loosen him up even more. She kept pressing in and out like this for a few minutes, watching the rise and fall of his chest, his facial features losing tension, his cock swelling a little more with every push. Her middle finger pressed against his ass. With little resistance, she managed to slip the fingertip inside. He clenched his ass around her fingers. She pushed them in with some force, curling them and searching for his special spot. She pushed a little further, both fingers entirely engulfed, and prodded.

“Huuuuhhnnn…!”

“There it is.”

She scissored her fingers and pushed a third finger inside. She rubbed his prostate all the while. 

“Hnnnngh...hnnnuh...unggg…!”

She increased her pace. His cock straightened, getting redder by the minute, shaking with every thrust of her hand. She could feel the juices gathering in her knickers. Sweat glistened on his body.

“Unh! Unh! Uhn! Uhn! Uhn...nm...uhn! Uhn!”

His hips moved to meet her fingers. The ropes tying his hands together tightened the ones around his crotch and ass. His teeth clenched the red gag and his breathing became haggard. 

“So...fucking...cute,” she muttered under her breath. Hermione stared at his bouncing erection and licked her lips.

She pressed harder, thrusted faster. He cried louder, barrelled towards his climax. She lowered her head and bit the inside of his thigh, then sucked hard on her bite marks. 

“You...will come only when I say so. Nod your head if you understand.”

He nods fervidly.

“Good boy…” Hermione smiled, and removed her fingers.

“Nnnnnnuuuuughh! Uhn….”

His hips jerked up to find her touch. His aching hole clenched and unclenched around nothing, dripping with lube. His cock was about to burst. 

“Since you were such a good boy, I have a present for you.”

She summoned a small device and coated it with lube. She inserted it right next to his prostate. 

“Say hello to your new best friend.”

She held the remote in her other hand, and pushed the ON button.

“Uhn! Uhn...uhn! Hnngh...hnngh...uhn!”

She moved up his body and groped his pectorals, kissing and sucking his nipples between her teeth, while his erection was smothered beneath her abdomen. Climbing even further up, she trailed her kisses to his collarbone and sucked on the side of his neck. 

She huskily whispered into his ear.

“You may come.”

“UHNN! UHnn...uhn…”

She felt a warm stickiness spreading between their stomachs and kissed his jaw lightly.

“Good boy.”

She climbed off of him, turned off the vibrator, Scourgified the mess, Vanished her glove, moved all the furniture back into their proper place, removed the ropes with a flourish of her now ungloved hand and Levicorpus’d him onto the couch. She ended the recording, sending the video camera upstairs to her bedroom. For a second, she admired the red impressions of the rope decorating his body, and he tiredly blinked at her. 

“Now, let’s see whatever’s inside that pretty head of yours.”

She cast Legilimency.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione discovers Tom’s mysterious magical illness.

On her first cast, Hermione was not surprised by the unrelenting resistance.

“Once an Occlumens, always an Occlumens,” she muttered. No matter, she’s had far enough practice over her career. 

On her second, she tried a different tactic, bringing up her own memory of his climax and pushing it into his mind to find an in.

Worked like a charm.

From there, in the pitch dark mind of a highly-skilled Occlumens, she could make out several flashes of his most recent memories before he crashed into her bathroom.

Forest.

Night.

Moon.

Disease.

She picked the most interesting of these fragments and dove a little deeper, but not before receiving a stabbing pain in the back of her head that nearly broke her connection. 

Disease...chronic...since the moment...stepped into Hogwarts castle...chest pain...Amortentia...

With every fragment that she viewed, a roaring in her ears thundered and the stabbing sensation grew more and more frequent, drawing a cold sweat from her skin. Her legs trembled with the effort of remaining upright. 

Hermione had to stop and take a breather. All was dark and shivering cold like the unfathomable emptiness of space, loneliness brought to life. The next layer of his memories seemed eons away. While collecting herself to dive even deeper, Hermione was surprised by several things. 

Her real body had moved. Her hand was playing with his hair as she stared down at his form, several feet closer than before. 

And he didn’t move away or stop her or anything, he just let it happen.

But inside his head, while reaching for the Amortentia memory, a shadow ambushed her like a coiling serpent. 

She whispered simply. “Convince me. Why should I keep you alive? You broke into my flat, I had my way with you. The end.”

The shadow answered back. “Games. Puzzles. Don’t you like them, Muggleborn?”

“How civil of you. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Only everything. A living puzzle that not even the Dark Lord could solve just fell into your lap. A magical illness so rare that his own notes seem to be the only documentation of such a malady. You’re not going to kill me, Muggleborn, and I don’t need to convince you because you’ve already got yourself halfway there. The next memory is impossible to breach, l reckon you’ll lose your sense of self before you-”

“Fuck you.”

She shoved it away and grabbed onto the Amortentia fragment, a slippery knife that wriggled and cut into her hands and nearly coiled itself out of her grasp. She forced the fragment still and punched her way through. 

Amortentia...tastes and smells like nothing...no mental or physical effects...sole antidote for flaring aches and fevers...on the last day at Hogwarts, a ritual in the Forbidden For-

She was met with a wall, seemingly made of burnished iron. The empty world shifted, gravity tipped and after a few dizzy seconds on her knees, she realized that she had nearly face-planted into her floors. An awful bout of nausea hit her like a derailed freight train when she tried with all her might to push herself off of the sofa. She collapsed again, inches from his face as he stared at her. Echoes of his fragments threatened to shut off her consciousness, the mere memories burning creeping black holes into her vision. She shut her eyes tight and clutched her aching head.

It was maybe after thirty minutes of forcing her breathing to calm and listening to the faint whooshing of his, when her vision returned and she met his dark eyes again. 

He had broken the connection.

Hermione had an itch in her throat and coughed up a few coin-sized chunks of bloody phlegm into her hand. After some effort, she mustered enough focus to Scourgify it. 

He glared, jaw tensed, ready to blame her or defend himself but he only received silence. He turned his head away from hers and muttered a string of curses.

If she spent a moment longer in there, she could’ve lost her mind. His passive Occlumency could’ve crushed both her consciousness and body. She had to admit it, for her own sake, that she vastly underestimated his abilities and overestimated her own. The leftover traces of bloody phlegm were metallic, sour, and warm on her tongue. Her bones seemed to creak as she stood up. There was a crick in her neck that she hadn’t noticed until she started to pace the room at a much slower speed than usual. 

He observed her. How she reacted to the bits of information he let her see. How the patterns in her behavior changed. How she attempted to make sense of his actions to herself.

Ignoring the implications of him saving…no, preventing the worst case scenario, she was bewildered, to say the least.

He watched her card her fingers through her wavy mane.

“What ritual? Why the Forbidden Forest?” She muttered to herself, then looked to him and waited for a correction or addition or something.

He watched her connect the dots.

“Was he still a Hogwarts stud-“

Wait. She examined him again, looking at his form and curves and angles and planes from head to toe as if seeing him for the first time. His youthful features. Smooth skin. Peach fuzz on his chin. Barely-there eye bags. The suggestion of a wrinkle around his nose. 

“How old are you? You cannot lie.”

He grimaced, the same magic from before was swirling around his neck, threatening to set his vocal chords on fire for the slightest falsehood.

“Why do you ask? You’re the swot here.”

“Says the one who-”

“-took nine NEWTs?” His crooked smirk was begging to be slapped off his face. 

“God-fucking-damnit, just answer the question!”

“Well…” He stretched out on the sofa before sitting up and reclining with his legs slightly apart as if he owned it, wearing an unreadable smile that softened yet intensified his unassuming demeanor.

As if his bruised ass didn’t hurt like hell.

As if he still didn’t have a vibrator nestled inside. 

Hermione was struck by his face. Satisfyingly symmetrical, divine jawline, high cheekbones, surprisingly large dark eyes, low and pigmented brows, strong nose with a slight upturn, lips on the thinner side. Nearly invisible freckles just a shade or two darker than his skin misted his cheeks and nose. His doll-like eyelashes were so unfair.

This was lethal.

Hermione paced around the room, faster this time.

“I was born in 1926.”

“You’re infuriatingly unhelpful.”

Hermione stopped pacing and sighed, finally acknowledging her empty stomach. Until she gets inside his head again, she wasn’t optimistic about how much useful information she could tease out of him through normal conversation, or her vulnerable state afterwards. Unless...

“I’m ordering delivery. My additional thanks for saving your life on an empty stomach. Do you want anything?”

“You’re welcome. I’m fine with anything.”

“Hm.” She picked up her phone and looked through her contacts for the new restaurant in town, placing an order for two dinner combos and a sashimi platter.

“I hope you hate sushi.”

“I enjoy it, actually.”

She fought the urge to Avada him.

‘Speaking of which, why hasn’t he used any magic?’

Hermione thought of their first...whatever it was.

‘Was he capable of fighting back? Capable of any magic? Nothing felt off with his magical aura. Does it have anything to do with that so-called disease?’

He eyed the flat, shiny, glowing mirror-like device in her hands, before he felt a sudden jolt from his bruised bum and his hands immediately flew to his abdomen.

His kissable, sexy-

Hermione stopped herself before she could cause a self-indulgent catastrophe.

“You cannot remove the vibrator.”

She connected it to her phone’s bluetooth and set it on low, a pulsing rhythm. Waggling her phone, a smile spread over her face like butter on a hot pan. 

“Hey hey hey, I’m an old man, alright? Why don’t we do this later, after dinner and a nice bath? You could have me with a restored stamina. Think about it...just us...midnight...all night...fucking under the covers.”

His gaze grew heated, dazed.

Hermione’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. She expected some sort of disrespect from a brat like him, but she definitely did not expect such a...bold and oddly colorful solicitation for sex like...like that!

She watched his hand trail over his torso, as if his twitching, rising, reddening shaft was magnetized.

His expression was strangely blank yet needy. Like he didn’t know he’s reaching for his member in front of an audience.

There was a change in his magical aura too. Instead of sitting just under his skin, it flared out to seek hers. It coiled around her, having an almost sticky-feeling sensation when she hurriedly tried to retract her own aura. She switched her phone to her other hand and took a step back, hand gripping her wand.

“Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs.”

“Excuse me?”

“Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes.”

“Shakespeare?! And it’s not Macbeth or King Lear or Hamlet, but you’re quoting Romeo and Juliet?”

“Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears.”

Something inside her said ‘Fuck it, I fingered Voldy’s ass five minutes ago, and he liked it. Anything is possible.’

He began moving his hips in time with the slow pulsing. His hand travelled farther and farther down. His voice was different, hollow.

“What is it else? A madness most discreet.”

She shut off the vibrator and grabbed his wrist inches before he could wrap it around his throbbing, engorged, precum-tipped cock. One touch, and he would’ve exploded.

Hermione was definitely not letting him cum until he’s punished for his disrespect.

Her voice joined his, but at a whisper. “A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.”

He snapped out of it. He ripped his hand away from her and crumpled into the sofa, clutching his chest.

He struggled for air and could only breathe out, “...shit!”

Hermione leapt forward and shook his shoulders. “Can you understand me? This is it, right? The disease?”

He could only nod. One hand dug into his chest above his heart and the other clutched his head. 

She cast a vitals-checking spell and dashed out of the living room.

When she returned a moment later with a syringe filled with a potion she never thought she’d ever need to use, his features were gray and the spell showed a dangerously slow heartbeat even though his fever was bordering a worrisome 102 F. 

She wrenched an arm away, scanning for a vein.

Once she injected the dose, he immediately heaved several deep breaths as if he was drowning a moment ago, but the stress and lingering pain caused his eyes to flutter closed. Even the overhead lights seemed to threaten a second attack. He put his other arm over his eyes and collected every breath that he dearly missed.

Hermione removed the needle and pressed his wound closed with a bandaid. Before, he had looked so unshakably charismatic but...this was new.

Slumped against the sofa, clinging to life. 

Minutes passed. His breathing stabilized as she watched him return to the land of the living.

His temperature cooled, his heart rate was a bit elevated, and every other metric she checked was within normal limits. He was flaccid.

“How often does this-” She probed.

“What...did you do to me?! What was in there?!” He grabbed her shoulders.

“What did I…?” Hermione couldn’t believe it.

Her voice seemed to scorch the air. “I just SAVED your life, AGAIN, mind you! I could have let you bleed out on my bathroom tiles and I certainly could have sat and watched you shrivel up and die just then.”

He opened his mouth to bite a retort, likely that he was the one who kicked her out of his mind, but her fury wasn’t having any of that and Silencio’d him.

His mouth moved regardless of the spell. She could make out the words ‘asinine’, ‘despite my explicit warning’, and ‘outstanding Gryffindor foolishness’.

Silence overtook them once more, her looking at anything that wasn’t him, him scowling at her with crossed arms. 

Minutes ticked by.

“Sorry, alright? I...why don’t you look at it from my perspective. If I told you not to do something, would you do it anyway?”

He hesitated longer than necessary before nodding that he would was telling...something dangerous that Hermione couldn’t name was festering between them.

“Whatever, let’s save that can of worms for later. I used a dose of...well, an experimental potion. There’s nothing else I can tell you except that it’s proprietary. I won’t be using it again, don’t have any more of it left, anyway. I’ll start with regular Amortentia tonight, see how I can modify the recipe with the next few batches once you tell me about your puzzle.”

He nodded. A bout of boredom seized his whole body in a yawn and a stretch, settling into his ‘I own this’ sitting position from before the attack, as if all of this was mundane. Normal. 

“If you leave anything out, know that it’s your fault, not mine, when I find your dead body in the morning.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The attacks happen weekly. It used to be around twice a year, of which the time in between varied unpredictably from a day to several months. I get fevers, aches, migraines, and an irregular heartbeat of some kind. Before it happens, I become inexplicably...excited. My...ahem, excitation never triggers an attack, however. When Slughorn taught Amortentia in my 6th year, because it had no discernable smell to me, I knew it had something to do with the attacks. I found that it mitigated the effects before, during and after an attack. I spent the next year refining the recipe, as the attacks were growing in frequency and getting more severe.”

Hermione thought about all of it, but there was just one unexplained phenomenon that perplexed her to no end.

“But why did you start spouting Shakespeare?”

“I do not spout Shakespeare! One does not simply ‘quote’ the godfather of modern English, like an absolute plebeian, rather, his works are to be recited in iambic pentameter as they would in a performance.”

A wicked lightbulb flickered on in Hermione’s head, and suddenly it all made sense.

“So, the disease made you insanely horny and that was the sexiest thing that you could think of? You’re a theater geek! Drama nerd! That’s why you never killed Harry when you could’ve but instead kept monologuing!”

Smiling, she struck his face with her backhand.

He was shocked only for a millisecond. His coal-black eyes whipped back to glower at hers. They seemed to glitter with rage.

“Wow, that felt great! I’ve always wanted to do that. You’re so predictable.”

Teeth bared like fangs, he lunged at her. “You dared to raise your filthy-!“

“You cannot breathe.”

His hands flew to his throat, scrabbling for the invisible binds that probably felt like molten iron. Every sharp, short, staggered inhale sends a wave of tears and drool down his face. From his trachea to his bronchial tubes to his bronchioles to his alveoli, they may as well have been bursting into flames.

“No fucking wonder! You and your henchmen were perfectly capable of Avada-ing us as kids, but your sick, geeky fantasies wouldn’t allow it. No, you wanted him to put up a fight. So year after year, battle after battle, you made sure that the both of you could somehow duke it out, one on one. You’re fucking despicable.”

Hermione waited a few more seconds for his muscles to falter and his consciousness to begin to fade.

“But...it’s not like I didn’t know that already. You can breathe again.”

He coughed, throat hoarse from his lungs spasming.

“...you…!”

Ding dong!

“Ah, the food’s here!” Hermione jumped up from the sofa to receive the delivery.

She laid out plates and opened the takeout containers, inhaling the delicious smell of hot miso soup.

‘Love...fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes...a sea nourished with loving tears...a madness most discreet...a choking gall, a preserving sweet...sounds like BDSM to me. Who knew? He’s a natural sub.’ Hermione chuckled to herself.

Looking over the table at his unmoving figure, she sighed.

“You cannot be anywhere other than sitting in the chair across from me.”

He sprung up faster than light and narrowly avoided having the soles of his feet burned.

His face was scowling and his arms were crossed in front of his chest, but she could bet all the money in the world that she heard his stomach grumble. Her gaze drifted lazily from the freckles on his face to his drool-inducing pectorals to his flat stomach. His crossed arms had an elegant kind of muscle definition, like a dancer.

Still, he doesn’t move. 

“Lead it to water, but you can‘t make it drink…”

Twenty minutes later, she had scarfed down her meal and cleaned up while he still hadn't touched the chopsticks.

“Tell you what, Toby, I could make this fun for you.”

“Why am I ‘Toby’ now? Pick a name and stick with it, just call me Tom.”

“Ha ha, no.”

He gave a ‘why do I even bother’ face.

“Did you expect not to be treated like a prisoner?”

“Prisoner? I’d rather lock myself in Azkaban than be chained here like a dog.”

In a fraction of a second the air froze over.

“What to do…?”

He kept quiet, observing her changing roles, changing mannerisms, changing her facial expression to something visually foreign but her voice was achingly familiar.

“I took in this arrogant, bratty, ungrateful, stray little mutt who hated the name it was born with. Under its new Master, yours truly, it will be given a new suitable name as a sign of rebirth.”

“Rebirth?! Don’t you mean ownershi-“

“You can only bark.”

“Waarrf! Wooarrf! Grrrrrrrrrrrr…!”

His face reddened after hearing his own distorted voice, startled by the likeness. 

“I like dogs a great deal, you know? They’re loyal, loving, energetic, trainable, and they can’t talk back.” Hermione basked in his unintelligible growlings. She imagined his long fingers spreading his asscheeks wide open, whining and begging for her. 

“Whoever you are, I can’t let you go off gallivanting into Wizarding Britain, and no one else knows you exist or gives two shits about you so I’m your best bet to survival.”

“Grrraaarrrrrgggghhh…! Grrrrrrrraaarrrrgggghhh!”

She sighed. “Do you even know what year it is? You can speak again.”

He cleared his throat.

“The last one I remember is 1997. You look…”

He scanned her features.

“...a couple years older than I remember.”

She shook her head. “More than that, actually. It’s December 1st, 2012.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione adopts a puppy.

“My current theory is that you’ve somehow acquired all of the madman’s memories or knowledge, but you’re a different person from a different spacetime. This is pure speculation, however, I don’t expect you to confess all that you know, and I won’t be cracking open a book to find out.”

“I’m almost offended. You used to always have your nose in a book to save Potter’s immortal ass whenever I was involved.”

The smallest of smiles graced her lips for a moment.

“Been there, done that a million times. And I’m on holiday. My first one, after busting my ass for years following every false lead to a dead fucking end.”

He gestures to himself, a chilling undertone slipping into his words. “Congratulations, I suppose. You found me, wandless and defenseless, after a long, fruitless endeavor that spanned your entire measly career. You have accomplished nothing in your life except participating in a few skirmishes in Hogwarts and studying for scores that no employer cares to look at.”

They both let silence precipitate and pile up to their necks like snow.

A minute ticked by.

He was testing her buttons, Hermione was sure of it. Looking for a pressure point that he could squeeze to his advantage. The only way she could make it out on top was to proceed rationally. 

Hermione shrugged as if there was no such interlude and his cutting words were simply whispers from the wind outside.

“Why are you bringing that up? How others see me is their business. I planned for nothing but a month filled with hot cocoa and trashy romance novels and I intend to stick to it. For your new name, how about...Jake? Michael? Matthew? Ryan? Kerry? Eric? But with a K? Oh that one suits you quite a bit. Goth, mysterious, darkness and brooding and whatnot.”

He just sat there, arms crossed, a hurricane raging behind his eyes. He seemed to say ‘this is not over’ before voicing his protests.

“I do not brood. And I hate the Phantom of the Opera.”

“No? Alright then, how about...Ian? Dylan? Damien? Ollie? Harrison? No, you’d never pick that, it sounds like you’re the son of Harry. Dave? Larry? Hm. This is harder than I thought. I’ll let your body decide. I’ll keep thinking of new names for you, and whichever one you cum to, is yours.”

Hermione walked around the table to sit next to him and picked up a slice of untouched Rainbow roll while her other hand reached for his still unclothed body. Hermione briefly mused whether or not to buy him anything at all. 

Her hand rested on his inner thigh as she held the sushi up to his mouth. Seeing that his lips refused to budge, she started to massage the area just around the base of his flaccid penis, brushing a finger against his balls once or twice. Still, his lips did not budge.

He stared resolutely back at her.

She huffed, and decided on a more direct course of action. She stood up again and straddled his legs, and as she hadn’t cared to put on a fresh pair of knickers under her new skirt and t-shirt, her bare ass and pussy pressed into his lap. He gasped, she took that opportunity to squeeze his cheeks open to shove the sushi inside. He slowly chewed. Swallowed.

“How is it? Good? Nod to say yes, Jeffrey.”

He shook his head. She already has another bite of sushi in her hand.

She adjusted her position to avoid wrinkling her skirt, to which he hissed out, already half erect. “Stop that!”

“Shake to say you want more, Liam.”

His head was still. She slid her other hand up the nape of his neck and gripped his hair to slowly draw his head back. She lowered her mouth to his neck and started planting wet kisses and nips. She ground her hips against his. His mouth parted slightly, and she was pleased to find that he took the sushi out of her fingers without much of a fuss.

“Jack. Wendell. Wally.” She fed him a piece with every name, grinding a slow rhythm all the while.

After combing it through his wavy locks, she took her hand out of his hair and rested it against his chest since he took the sushi silently and obediently. She watched him eat, just as intently as he did when she ate hers.

“Pearson. Ernst. Albert.” Another three pieces.

“Gabriel. Brandon. Isaac.” He ate two pieces of pork gyoza. Feeling peckish again, Hermione held the last one up for him but stole it at the last second and licked her oily fingers. She held his gaze as her fingers went in and out of her mouth, sucking them. 

“You teasing, wretched woman. I wanted that.” There was no bite to his tone, but it was gravelly, maybe half an octave lower. 

Hermione just smiled. 

“Hey, Trenton?” 

“‘Trenton’ sounds boorish and knuckleheaded. I’m serious, just Tom is fine, without last names or anything.”

“Has anyone ever told you how nice your tits are?”

“My what?”

“Firm-looking, yet so squishy…” she rubbed his pectorals lightly, avoiding his areolas, before taking as much flesh as she could and groped his chest, grinding down upon his thighs without restraint.

He sucked in a breath. Moments before his hands grabbed her hips, they changed targets to grip the sides of the chair instead, cautious of the burning curse. It felt too good to be ruined by it.

“Perfect to tie up...just like the rest of you.” She put her mouth on his nipple and sucked and licked.

“...aah! Fuck…”

She let out a low chuckle as she slowly released his nipple from her mouth. She nuzzled a cheek into the crook of his neck, sending vibrations reverberating throughout his body.

“Hmm...lovely. So...haannh...fucking lovely. Do you know how sexy you are when you’re all sweaty and breathing heavy? Ahhh...I could stare at you all day while touching myself.”

Another complement out of nowhere. He tried to banish it from his memory as soon as he heard it but something about her voice—maybe it was the shameless honesty, or the breathy sighs, or the affectionate kisses that punctuated her sentences—something lit a fuse inside him that he didn’t know existed. 

He yelped when her other hand pinched his other nipple. Why was he letting her do this? Why was she doing this at all? He gave up on all rational thought and decided to be incredibly grateful for her libido to keep the both of them preoccupied.

She summoned her phone and turned the vibrator inside him on medium. His hips jerked up, searching for more friction and contact against her slick folds. Her juices covered his cock and shaft and squelched every time their hips pressed together.

“Ah...ah...ngnhh…!” His eyes fluttered closed, concentrating on every sizzling point where his skin connects to hers. She doesn’t let up on his pecs. Tweaking, pulling, then kissing it better, the sensual pain got him spiraling into the stratosphere.

Higher and higher.

He could feel it in his loins, he was reaching the same euphoria as the one from earlier. 

“Ahhh...aaahh...more...more!”

He moaned, knuckles showing white and muscles flexing in restraint. More than anything, he wanted to hold her still and thrust into that soft pussy. He could have just let go of the chair and pinned her to the ground underneath him, clamping a hand over her mouth as he took everything he wanted. Why didn’t he do that? Why is everything on her terms?

“Haaah...you close? I’m feeling-aah good, too.”

Did he...like this?

She let go of his supple pectorals and reached downwards. Her hand squeezed between them and found her clit, rubbing and pulling and inserting them inside herself.

“Haaahhn...aaahnn...ahhhn...I’m so close!”

Just when he thought he couldn’t be more aroused watching her getting herself off, her fingers occasionally touched his length as she rapidly pumped them in and out. If her previous touches were sizzling, these unleashed an inferno.

His cock throbbed.

His cock weeped precum.

His cock was addicted to her fingers.

With a silent gasp and a slight jolt in her body, eyes squeezed shut, she came on top of his erection. More of her juices descended upon his shaft and dribbled onto his balls. She removed her fingers and he whined for the loss of her accidental touches.

She smiled against his skin, sucking on his collarbone this time.

“You passed your first test with flying colors. A good dog never touches their master without permission...even if it’s so good it feels like torture.”

“Fuck…! Ca-can I…”

“Hm? Use the magic word.”

“Please! I-I can’t take this...can I please...just the tip? That’s all I’m asking for! I’ll make you feel good, I’ll…”

He choked on his next words, the vibrator still 

“...b-behave! I’ll be your fucking dog, I’ll do anything to cum inside! So please!”

His eyes watered, a single tear nearly falling onto his flushed cheeks. Lust permeated every fiber of his being.

Hermione laughed. He gazed into her dilated pupils, as if he could somehow hypnotise her into giving him what he wanted.

“No.”

She lifted herself away, hovering above him on her knees, keeping herself an arm’s length away. She even turned off the vibrator. Sweat gleamed on both their bodies. Cold air hit both of their nether regions and he cried out in desperate frustration.

“Don’t you...want it too? I can learn! Whatever makes it feel good, you can show me what to do!”

Hermione warred with herself for a moment, a moment that felt a thousand times longer than the two seconds that actually passed.

“I suppose I could be persuaded. What could you possibly have to offer?”

His eyes flicked to the lips underneath her rumpled skirt, then to her breasts, pert nipples poking at the thin cotton barrier, then to her mouth, still shiny and red.

“I can think of a few things.”

“Oh?”

“A Vow. So long as I get fuck you, I will continue playing along with this…” he gestured to one of his rope marks on his arms. “...arrangement. I won’t escape, or kill you, or misbehave, and so on. I’ll even help you solve the puzzle.”

“I think you’re misunderstanding something. I’m the one who does the fucking.”

All traces of humor left his tone. “Miss Granger, I meant exactly what I said.”

Hermione laughed again, but this time, it sounded merciless even to her own ears.

“Guess my grip on your leash was too loose, huh? You’re getting punished for that later. You’re not a natural sub after all, but you just need a little...encouragement.”

Without warning, she climbed off of him, forced his thighs apart, and furiously pumped his engorged cock to the border between pain and pleasure that grew blurrier and blurrier with every snap of her wrist.

“No! You’re! Wait! Too! Mu-AAAhhn! No! This is...! Nngh! Wait wait wai-aaahnn-OOOhh So close! Nngh! Nnuuugh! Yes! More! More! Right there right there yes yes yes-“

“There’s my favorite puppy. How good do you feel?”

Saliva dribbled from his open mouth.

“Good! Nngh! Really! Really-ahn! So good!”

“Who made you feel this good?”

“You did! You! Why, no why did you stop? Don’t stop no no-“

Hermione’s voice hardened. “Address me properly! What am I?”

“Please! I need to cum! I was almost almost-“

Hermione slaps him hard.

“What am I to you?”

He chokes out a whisper, hot tears free-falling down. “...-aster...”

“Who is your Master?”

“You are my Master! Please! Master, I just want to cum!”

Mockingly, she looked up from between his thighs and sighed. “Are you sure? I don’t know what you’re asking from me. Try begging instead.”

He swallowed a sob.

“Master, please, let me cum! I’m so close that it hurts, please please please let me cum!”

“Why should I? You threatened me five minutes ago, and demanded sex. Do you think good puppies do that?”

“No, Master! I...I apologize, Master! I just wanted to cum inside...inside something wet and...and tight! I wanna cum so badly...!”

He rutted against the air, yearning for her touch.

“So you made empty insults and threats? That’s not the way to do it, Puppy. Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Touch my dick!”

She waited.

“Sorry, please touch my dick, Master!”

“Good boy.” She put a hand around the head of his cock, lightly stroking it. With every stroke, a pearly bead of precum rolled out and dripped into her palm.

“Master, please move faster...I can’t take this-AH!”

Hermione put his head inside her mouth, tongue swirling around it, and sucked. She tasted his precum first, then a hint of her own slick.

“OH! Aaahnn...nngh Master’s mouth feels so good! I’m so close!”

She released him with a pop. Her hand stroked even faster, slicking her saliva up and down his length. His hips tried to move against her hand for maximum pleasure but her other hand pinned him down to the chair.

“Enngh! Hnngh...aahnnnn! Please! Fuck! More! Mooore!”

Semi-conscious, drunk on the ecstasy of her hand and savoring the memory of her mouth, strings of unintelligible noise left his open mouth.

“Cum for me, Puppy!”

And her Puppy did.


End file.
